Using Fiction to Alter Reality

"Sherpa or schlepper - you should be a writer."

That brought a proud smile. "Let's go in the house. You tell me what you need, and I'll schlep while you watch the three - I'd be falsely proud, but you know who is getting the better end of things."

"I brought her bed..."

"She can sleep with Ben; we just got him a bigger bed. Besides, people in our families are used to sleeping together. Though, in the other's case it is euphemistic."

"Sleep together! I want to do that." Said Sarah.

Ron enjoyed Sarah's words and said, "Oops, little pitchers and big ears, as it were. Though, I like the conversations which might come from that."

"Well, that's we want to talk about. We'll hit the highlights until nap time. Some of this needs to be a mystery until we get our ducks in a row."

"Ducks? Where?" Sarah was more into the literal - at this age.

Ron had the family room set up for playtime. Nothing for little ones to pull down on themselves and soft toys for thirty. Sarah and Ben were almost the same age and the three were used to being together. It was cute watching them. Ron's two seemed more interested in getting Sarah to play with their toys than in worrying about their treasures being plundered.

"Gosh, that makes me sad, in a way."

"What?" he said, clearly curious.

"Sharing is a sign of love. There is a lot here. Too bad some don't know limits in their sharing."

"Let me get your car buttoned up and we'll explore that."

Ron came back and found the three crawling around with two toy trucks and a stuffed bear. There was some story linking trucks and a bear, and we were hardly an afterthought.

"Thanks for coming. Looks like you have them off to a good start. But since the three on the floor seem to hear an odd word here and there, let's talk about a movie we watched starring Daniel and Wilma. Tell me, are they in love or just having fun?"

"Oh, that was a good movie. The viewers really learned a lot when Daniel's phone was found. It revealed a love story."

I saw emotion in Ron for the first time. A love story hurt him, and he was not afraid to show it. "Ron, I see how you react to this movie. We need to hold off our discussion, don't you think?"

"I do. But, if you will, tell me all about it and ignore how it hits me. I can wait for that part of our discussion."

I shrugged, "As in most love stories, they are talking of marriage. But she has two pet goldfish, and she wants full custody of them. Right now, she has a man taking care of them and she is afraid he won't give them up."

"She's right about that." He growled.

"What's wrong Daddy?" came from young Andrea.

"Daddy is just being silly. Sorry I got too loud. We are talking about a movie - a grown up movie, there is a bad man..."

As his voice relaxed, his daughter no longer cared about what he was saying and was back playing before he finished his sentence - so he didn't. "Well, that tells me what I say is not as important as the emotion." He laughed and playfully said, "I am going to strangle that slut." No reaction from the youngsters.

"Well, what made it such a good movie is the one who told the story was a planner. Her plan involved revenge on the happy couple." I started giggling by the end of that. I looked at Ron and said, "happy-talk voices and this story put me in a real mood."

His eyes lit up, "It would be fascinating to try to write about saying things one way while meaning them another." The light left his eyes, he got a steely-eyed countenance and lightly said, but we are here to talk about movies."

"I don't think her plan is about to come to pass, though."

"Oh, why not?"

"Well, her lover has a fish, too. He doesn't mind leaving that fish behind and claims he's happy to get two new ones. But tell me, do you know anyone willing to give up their own goldfish, yet happy to get new ones?"

"No, I don't."

We talked like that for a while. We were getting rather good at it. Neutral tones were the key. They are white noise among the very young. The most trouble we had was when he asked if I remembered why the story was written. I told him apparently in her old home everyone loved her and treated her like a princess.

I shouldn't have used princess in front of two young ladies - both wanted to know about this princess. I promised I'd read the story later, which bought me some time.

Then, the shrew, as she was now called, discovered being treated harshly, rough conjugation, and strong dialog during the effort were something of value to her. My description made Ron laugh aloud.

"You might try writing yourself. I am sure such activities have never been more benignly described."

"Mine!" came a voice from the floor. Not long after, general fussing began. Before that escalated, we got everybody up and in Ben's bed. They were asleep in no time. Now we could talk.

"Ron, I'm so sorry we went through this like we did."

"No, you know it was the best way to do it. Getting news like that in happy-talk code isn't all that bad. Well, it is that bad, just maybe better than the gory detail - rough conjugation, for example." He chuckled.

I explained Luther's first time, his second time, along with my threat. "Right now, dumbass doesn't think I mean it, but he is dumber than a box of rocks."

Ron looked at me, a serious expression on his face, "And that's why you take him for granite?"

"Puns aside - he is going to be sorry!"

"Well, sorry to you seems to involve injury to him. I am not sure I am up for prison over this."

"Ron don't get all namby-pamby on me. Revenge is not inviting them for tea and crumpets and when they reach for a second crumpet, say, 'no, no, this is my revenge, no seconds for you.'"

He laughed, "Here is what I want. I want that bitch to get what she deserves, which is nothing. But if I go through a divorce, she'll prosper, and I'll get screwed plus lose Ben and Andrea. I won't do that. If you can tell me how revenge will make me better off, I'm in."

"That is a challenge. But not as big as you might think. Dumbass has strong qualities on which we can count. Number one, he loves chasing skirts. He can't help himself, and he is getting worse. Number two, he behaves worse and worse as his alcohol consumption goes up."

Ron thought about that for a moment, then said. "So, if my wife catches dumbass with yet another other woman and takes revenge, that might well do it..."

"We need her to do so in such a despicable way that she comes out the loser, dumbass gets his punishment, and we live happily ever after."

"A crime of passion, planned by people not involved. You should write fiction, though such a tale might be difficult for people to suspend their disbelief."

"Dumbass is easy. He wanders around, depriving some village of its idiot. The more he drinks, the more he drinks. Drinking leads him to follow his pecker around if that isn't too blunt."

"Pecker, an interesting choice of terms, but understandable. So, getting him in bed with his second alternate is not an issue. Our problem is Maureen is not the vengeful type."

"She just needs encouragement. Does she read your books?"

"Recently, not as much, but it was a big part of my process. I am sure I can guilt her back into it. What am I writing about?"

<><> Ron Ward <><>

What a woman! I don't remember meeting anyone quite like her. Janet is warm and caring. She is clever and witty. We connected. We are close, closer than just having mutual cheating spouses, would predict. Our connection is in who we are. We are similar souls.

Curious! Why am I thinking about her? She has offered a way to exact revenge on our cheating spouses. That is cold, but my thoughts of her are the opposite.

Why did Maureen stray? My connection with Maureen is practical. We became lovers because we belonged together. We were comfortable, compatible - boring. I never thought about it like that. I loved that we were so predictable. We dated and found we wanted the same things, we were both smart and ambitious, the more we knew about one another the more obvious it was we should marry.

Can Janet and I really be so cunning to enable dumbass and the slut to self-destruct? Are we that wise - or, better yet, are they that foolish? Janet knows Luther, she says he has two predictable traits and Maureen is predictable, too. Can we use that predictability?

Janet and I would never be predictable like that. Janet called herself a planner, I'd call her an innovator. Maureen strings tasks together, to her that is a plan. She went on leave had a son, got pregnant as fast as she could, as soon as her daughter could be without her food source for nine hours, Maureen was back at work. One task after another - she never became a mother, rather she had two children.

I stopped myself.

My thoughts are all over the place, this is what I do when I am creating. I write thoughts down, sort them later. What about this is triggering me to jump from one thought to another?

Just a few hours with Janet have given me a glimpse of what happiness looks like. She wanted revenge. But our meeting was not about revenge. She knew she was delivering the worst news I thought I could receive. She cared more about how the news impacted me than gaining me as an accomplice. This was further complicated by needing to find a clever way to deliver the news in front of three toddlers.

There was an ease. A humanity shown me and the children. Janet had a goal. More than a goal, it was her purpose, her holy grail. Yet, she was equally concerned with me - a stranger. Maureen and I never shared that kind of humanity - Passion? yes - Partnership? yes - Love? I thought so. But real caring? Not really.

Maybe Maureen found that with Luther?

I was sitting in my chair, looking at nothing. Maybe I was wrong. If I felt something with a kindred spirit in just a couple of hours - maybe it is normal.

Maybe Maureen just got caught up in...

That's bullshit. I didn't fuck Janet and I'm not planning to. I am not plotting with her to take our children away from Maureen - I am plotting with Janet to keep Maureen from willfully harming me. I want to think of my wife as the person I thought I married. Whether she changed, or I misread her, she is not the person I thought I married.

I pride myself in being reasonable. I see virtue in being reasonable. That may be the way I want to live and right now, being reasonable is going to get me screwed to the wall. I had better get myself in the frame of mind to be unreasonable. Not just unreasonable but unreasonable to a fault - or I am going to get run over.

My thoughts are still bouncing around like spit on a hot skillet. I may be the one several slices short of a loaf. Time to start planning - maybe plotting is a better term.

I'd asked about what I should write. Janet suggested we needed to make the lovers paranoid about discovery and fearful of retribution. I decided to write about a jealous husband. I was not specific of why he was jealous, skipping ahead in the story outline to his plot to shoot his wife and make it look like a robbery gone bad.

I wrote a couple thousand words and as our past practice, emailed them to Janet. I asked her what she thought about venturing out with my writing. Her practice had been to read it, in some cases a couple of times, then we'd talk about it.

<><> Janet Monroe <><>

Ron Ward gets it. Every time we get together, he is so caring toward me and Sarah. He also quietly goes about our plan. He started a murder mystery after our first meeting. His wife told him it was no good, he couldn't create sinister characters. There was no mood to make readers believe this jealous husband could kill his spouse.

That was two weeks ago. Today is Friday. Dumbass is always home on Fridays. The difficulty of those evenings was he generally wanted to make love. I generally held my nose and joined him.

Tonight, he grilled steaks, potatoes, and ears of corn. We had two (count them) bottles of Silver Oak Cabernet. It is an extraordinary wine, but I knew he was getting me receptive for something. We were sipping the last of the wine, he looked at me and said, "I think I am going to buy a handgun."

I nearly spewed my wine at him, "You romantic devil. You know how to set the mood."

"No, I'm serious. It is a dangerous world. We need to protect ourselves."

"Luther, I have no idea what you are talking about. There is no theft in this neighborhood, no vandalism. I'd say the only chance of needing a gun is if some jealous husband goes on a rampage - I'm not worried about that, are you?"

He turned slightly green and cleared his throat. Anyone who was not suspicious before would have been after that display. Since I knew of his affair and was the source of his paranoia - it was all I could do not to laugh in his face.

"Did you choke on your wine?" I asked innocently.

"Ur, ah, yeah, I did."

"Luther, I hate to say this, but you are so dumb if you threw yourself at the ground, you'd miss. You can't handle a weapon."

"Why don't we quit drinking and go up to bed?"

Tell a woman you're buying a gun and then ask her to bed - his cornbread is still soft in the middle. I'll admit, the wine had gotten to me. Besides, he always passed out after a quick, not too satisfying session, and after, I could get up and check his second cell phone. "Why not, you old charmer?"

We went to the bedroom. Not fifteen minutes later dumbass was snoring away, and I was getting his cell phone. My dear hubby reminded me a lot of Einstein - at this point in time, both are brain dead. He had password protected his second phone - with the same password as his first phone. Dumbass and his room-temperature IQ.

I opened the phone and found an on-going string of texts about jealous husbands and buying guns. Maureen was scared to death of guns, dumbass suggested she get a taser and suggested one with a laser sight, for $400.

She asked him to buy it. He asked her for the $400 - the charmer. <Ding> a new text came in. "You were great yesterday, when can we do it again?" The text was from RB, clearly not Maureen Ward. Dumbass is already cheating on his new spouse-to-be. I knew it was just a matter of time.

<><> Ron Ward <><>

I am getting to be quite fond of our little Monday and Wednesday children's-playdates. It was becoming a game to speak in a tone that aroused no suspicion among the children and had no verbal cues which would tune them into us.

Janet was telling me about a book she was reading, "The crux is boring," she was trying a new twist, apparently speaking in opposites, "joy abounds. A man called dumb A, has decided to weaponize his bedside table, and has been encouraging his round-heeled friend to do the same."

"Really?" I droned back, "speaking backwards would he be referring to a nug?"

I glanced down, the two young ladies were not happy with Ben - who just doesn't play right with the dolls. No indication they were listening to us. "Ben, why don't you get that truck you love, and let the girls have fun with the dolls?"

Ben received that with mixed emotions. He knew he really preferred the truck, but tormenting his sister and her friend was better, yet. However, looking at me he decided tormenting had had its run, for now, and moved toward the truck."

"Yes, nug as a bug in a rug. She isn't having any part of that, though. He is going to buy her an electric nug - well, with your money."

"Oh, I like that." I said, trying to sound disappointed. Such fun, learning to say one thing while sounding like you were saying something else.

"But you haven't heard the best part. Dumb A has not one, but two new horizontal contestants. He is now cheating both in the game he is playing and the next one on his schedule."

"It's bad to cheat, Mommy."

"You are so right. You wouldn't ever cheat, would you?"

"No, I'm a good girl." Sarah got a pleased look and went back to playing.

"That she knows that word shows the kind of home she comes from." Janet said it matter-of-factly, but her eyes showed she meant it and it hurt her."

I spoke in a neutral tone, "I have been close to despair. I had no idea how the story was going to end."

Janet looked at me, then got a big smile, "I told you. Some things are predictable as the sun rise."

"Well, the table is set. But how do we get the right players in the right positions?"

"I'll admit, it is less than a guarantee. But I am beyond hopeful, almost confident." She was getting good at saying everything in a matter-of-fact way.

"Round-heels will be in her hut. How would her partner know to send her to find dumb A compromised?"

She thought and apparently could not find a cute way to communicate her message, "We need to wait until nap time."

I looked over at the three and they were winding down. We talked to the kids, and in a few minutes, they were all wanting to lie down for a few minutes. We got them settled and returned to the family room.

"It turns out slut #2 is really a kinky one. She loves to be tied up and to be abused. That led me to a great scheme."

I laughed.

"What is so funny?" she asked.

"It is the first thing out of your mouth in a while where the thought, the emotion, and the tone all aligned. Don't mind me, lay your plan on me."

"Dumbass gets home at 6:00. I'll have cognac waiting. He has a weakness for alcohol and is overwhelmed by cognac. By the time we are finished with dinner he'll be ready."

"Ready for?" I asked in anticipation.

"I am going to send slut 2 a text, telling her to be on our front porch, naked, at 8:30. In that text I will demand she send a return text at 7:30 saying she will be standing on the porch, naked at 8:30. I'll erase the outgoing text."

I was impressed. "Brilliant. Slut #2 will not show up early, she knows she will be forced to stand naked on your porch if she does. You can make your exit, after a big fight, and he'll be excited to see you go."

"Exactly, some time, before 7:30 I'll let dumbass know, I know about his women. I'll tell him I'm through. I have arranged for Sarah to be at day care that evening. While we are arguing he will get the text. I can say, one of your lovers, do doubt - pick it up."

It sounded good to me, "You say he gets belligerent. So, he picks it up and sees he has a surprise coming."

"An idiot would be smart enough to wonder why, in the middle of a fight with the wife, does a slut offer to show up, naked, at his home. Sober, dumbass might have a chance to wonder, drunk he'll just be anxious to get me going. When he's drunk on cognac it's like he fell out of the stupid tree and hit every branch on the way down. I'll be packed and on my way by 8:15 or 8:20, with any luck I can pick up his cell phone and bring it with me."

"What if she doesn't text back?"

"I'll improvise, but I am betting she will. She is a real piece of work, that one."

"So, you leave, and minutes later there is a knock at his door. What if dumbass opens the door and slut #2 says she is reporting, as ordered."

"I thought of that. He will be drunk; she will be naked. It will not matter what she says. You've heard a stiff dick has no conscience? It doesn't have ears, either."

"That's a picture. You say he never misses a text. What if he notices you take his phone?"

"Thought of that, too. He'll be about crazy to get me out before she arrives. You haven't seen his behavior when drunk nor when anticipating a naked visitor. I am counting on the stiff dick not remembering a cell phone, either."

"Then what?"

"I drive to your house. I knock on the front door and confront slut #1 in front of you. You tell her to get out, I'll hand her my house key. Between the two of us, we can get her to flee. She won't need a map to tell her where to go."